So, late this afternoon I'm about seventeen feet up up a ladder.

Why?

Well, in general, familial obligations required that I help pull some Xmas decorations down. In particular, there was this one little piece of velcro sticking to the top of a second story window that I was told just had to go.

I don't mind ladders. I look at them like guns; used properly, obeying all the rules, they can be used safely for a legit purpose. I've used them a lot, without any serious consequences.

Getting that piece of velcro, though, required that I extend that ladder out to it's very tippy-tip. Said window was under a flower bed, one, moreover, that had been freshly mulched. When I tried to lean the ladder up, it ws evident it could not reach unless I:

a) Put the base of the ladder in the mulched bed,

b) set the ladder at a more vertical angle than is my normal practice, and

c) climbed almost to the very end.

I looked around for some one to brace the ladder, but everyone was busy elsewhere. No prob - I just checked the base of the ladder to see that it was firmly set in the ground there, (I was worried about it slipping) and started up.

You can already see where this is going, right?

About the time I putting my foot on the penultimate step, and reaching for that pesky square of velcro tape, I feel the ladder start to go over sideways right as the soft mulched bed gave way.

My first thought was "Oh boy, this is going to be fun."

I honestly can't say if the ladder fell slowly, or if time changed pace or what, but it seemed like it took a long time to get to the ground. I started dancing down the ladder, trying to stay vertical as the ladder fell. My mind inventoried the likely impact area, recalling nothing much but some bushes. I concluded this was gonna hurt, but I'd prolly live.

Aaah, but there where those flagstones next to the house.

Time to abandon ship.

I could hear one of the onlookers in the yard, notified of this circus by the noise of the aluminum ladder skittering down the side of the house, scream " Oh my God!"

I didn't want to get my feet caught up in the rungs. About halfway down, I kicked out backwards, and did my best to roll into the fall, in best paratrooper fashion.

Slambangouch.

I hit on my feet, but moving backwards and sideways so hard that there was no way to stand on them. I toppled and landed hard on my shoulder, so hard the my sunglasses flew off and landed about fifteen feet away. It felt like taking a good lick in football.

I lay there a moment, inventorying.

"Marcus, are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

I started laughing uncontrollably, mostly from relief.

"Goddamit, where are the video cameras when you need them? This woulda made me a boodle on one a' those funniest video shows."

Somehow, amazingly, thank (insert $DEITY$ of your choice), I am completely unhurt, not even a bruise. Nobody that witnessed it (about a half-dozen folks) thought it could be true.

Only the good die young, I suppose. :-)

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